


Windows

by MapleleafCameo



Series: Body Parts [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Eyes, M/M, colour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleleafCameo/pseuds/MapleleafCameo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exploration of eye colour and how to get lost in their depths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SherlocksScarf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlocksScarf/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Окна](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10978860) by [Little_Unicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Unicorn/pseuds/Little_Unicorn)



> This story is for Sherlock’sScarf, dreamer of dreams, writer of tales. Go read her work.
> 
> I asked my friend mattsloved1 for 3 words to describe John’s eyes to help me get started. She gave me caring, laughing, intelligent. 
> 
> As usual I do not own, but I gift this to Sherlock’sScarf.

John’s eyes were a marvel to Sherlock. He never tired of staring into them. There was so much to see, so many wonders and treasures hidden in their depths.  
  
To look at them in different lights or moods, they would appear changeable, mutable, variable.  
  
He could never quite decide what colour they were.  
  
Sometimes they seemed navy as the colour of his jeans, almost sliding into indigo. In certain lights they were more like the ocean on a calm day or those times when the fathomless sea changed, they would then appear storm-tossed, more so if he was silently worried about something. Cerulean when he was calm again.   
  
Toward someone who hurt Sherlock, they would freeze over in icy drafts of a composed, carefully controlled wrath. Other times if he was furious with Sherlock, they appeared black as the sky at night, but stars still illuminated them.  
  
Full of laughter or tears of mirth crinkled at the corner, they lit up a room.  
  
In subtle lights or moods, Sherlock, who was always observant, would have sworn they were amber, full of warmth and humorous intelligence, the depth of how much he cared for Sherlock as they followed him around the room. He would bask in the heat from them if allowed.   
  
But it was in the bedroom, bound and chaotic in his arms, where he stared into the bottomless depths of love that welled up from John, it was there he struggled to define their essence. The nameless colour would capture his eyes, and he would hold it in his heart and pour back without words what he felt and thought and exalted, into John, whose great heart could hold all of Sherlock’s adoration and possession and more.   
  
Sherlock, atheist and non-believer in God or Gods, he scoffed at the immaterial, which couldn’t be proved or deduced or detected, but there was one thing, one intangible he clung to, as fervently, as reverently as a priest at temple.   
  
If anyone had a soul John did, window to all he was, mirror of all they were.


	2. Sherlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also for dear Sherlock’sScarf. Inspired by her, three words from mattsloved1 (endless, lost, piercing and thanks for looking this over once again!! And inspiring an ending!!!) and an amazing edit by aperturetardis on Tumblr, comparing the colour of BC’s eyes to the Crab Nebula. Simply breathtaking (of course that describes a lot of my reactions to BC:D).
> 
> Sigh – still don’t own. I have a feeling that won’t change anytime soon.

Whilst Sherlock gazed into the fathomless sea of John’s eyes, John was adrift in an ocean of stars, a thousand colours, each one blending into another, as infinite as the night sky.  
  
Sherlock’s eyes, curiously enough for a man made up of deduction and inquiry, defied logical description.  
  
Words danced through John’s head. Words he wanted to understand so he could better describe the endless field of pigmentation that inhabited the irises of the younger man.  
  
Wandering in a haze of lust and desire, the word Nebula came unbidden first, the colour shining with the fusion of adoration and need, as they gazed into John’s own. The other man may appear cold and calculating to those he cared little for, and he was as distant as the galaxies spinning in the universe but to John, lost as he was at the moment, Sherlock was the one that guided him back.  
  
Mercurial came to mind. Mercurial, an adjective best used to describe the colour and, uncannily enough, the disposition of his love. His eyes altered capriciously from silver to blue to green on a whim and were flecked with brown as an afterthought. But they were never still in their choice, as if his irises had a mind of their own, dancing to the spectrum and pulse of a different hue. Sherlock’s personality transformed just as freely.  
  
Copper was another element that played and tripped in his thoughts as well, the metal that could swing from brown to green and imparted blue to turquoise.   
  
John, stable and steady, craved the drive of unpredictable nature that was Sherlock. He would not be complete, half of a soul, torn and hemorrhaging without him.  
  
A shift and a sigh. Soft murmurs that bled into heightened passions. Sherlock’s gaze, piercing and merciless, refused to relinquish their hold on John’s and as the heated moment came to its ultimate and inevitable conclusion the two men clung to each other, through storms at sea and solar winds.  
  
They lay in each other’s arms, one earthbound, the tether and anchor, the other larger than life, an uncontainable force. Two men connected and joined to each other through the fundamental ties of want and craving, and the divine bonds of love and joy.  
  
United into a new creature.  
  
Two as one.

 


End file.
